


Blind Bandits and Reluctant Rogues

by Okadiah



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, POV Multiple, Pregnant Hera, but fun too, lots of chaos and mayhem, or as compliant as i could get anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 23:57:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15593688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okadiah/pseuds/Okadiah
Summary: While on mission to retrieve Chopper from Jedha City, Kanan and Hera become separated amidst a violent skirmish, but they aren’t the only ones. The last Guardians of the Whills also lose track of each other in the fray, and in the middle of a warzone it’s a struggle for everyone to reconnect.New teams are formed, crises arise, and Saw Gerrera was never one to let an opportunity slip by.





	Blind Bandits and Reluctant Rogues

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I've been wanting to do this story for a while now, and I've finally decided not to procrastinate anymore with it and just take the plunge. There are some spoilers for the Guardians of the Whills novel, and if I have any Rogue One people here who haven't watched Rebels I *highly* recommend watching the series. Not only is it a really great show, it'll help you understand the nuances of Kanan and Hera's dynamic here.
> 
> Oh, I'll also explain the timeline at the end of the chapter. But until then, enjoy!

The cold, dirty air of Jedha made Kanan’s lungs ache, and he was grateful for the warmth of Hera’s body where she moved beside him. Around him the sound of the dense multitude of people going about their day here in the Holy City bombarded him. Another shiver raced down his back. For a desert, it was cold, and the crowd didn’t do much to make it warmer. He pressed closer to Hera. The Twi’lek was always warmer than he was.

He forgot about the cold, however, when he felt a silent sigh swell up from Hera’s chest to spread throughout her body.

“You saw him?”

“Yes, he’s definitely in there,” Hera replied, leading him through the crowd to avoid detection from the Imperials and their patrols near the Aurek Landing Zone. “Chopper’s stuck. We need to get him out of there, but the security’s tight. He couldn’t even signal to me, but I know he saw us.”

Four days ago, they’d sent Chopper on a reconnaissance mission after hearing news concerning kyber shipments from Jedha. After the kyber incidents he and Hera — then Ezra and Sabine — had faced in the last few years, they’d been curious and been granted time for a very brief mission. Unfortunately, the scrappy droid had missed his check-in two days ago. After he’d missed his second, Hera decided it was time to figure out what had happened. Chopper was supposed to have remained on an Imperial outpost in the sector but had somehow managed to make his way all the way out to Jedha City itself.

The rest of the crew had been pulled away to work other various missions in support of the rebellion, and when Hera had asked Kanan if he’d like to come along, he’d been happy to, if only to have a rare mission alone with her. Not to mention it had been a week of dull work, and as bad as it sound, coming after Chopper and finding out that it might be more difficult to retrieve him than they’d thought, well, it gave him something better to do and Imperials to bother.

And hopefully, it would give him the opportunity he was looking for to really talk to her.

Kanan resolutely shoved _those_ thoughts away. They could wait. There were other things to focus on right now, and he was more than eager to do it.

“Sounds like we’ll need to make an opening,” he said, perhaps a little too brightly. Hera snorted at him. “What?”

“Are the missions we already receive too easy for you Kanan?” Hera asked. “Is that why you agreed to come along? To make trouble?”

“Of course not,” Kanan half-lied with a grin, the one he could feel in the Force she always liked. “I came because you asked me to and because I wanted to spend time with you.”

“Then am _I_ boring you?”

This time Kanan snorted. Last night hadn’t bored him in the least.

“There’s nothing boring about you.” His mood tempered as it did only with her, and a tiny frown pulled at his lips. “Just wanting to stretch my legs a little. Also, being here … it’s making me a little antsy.”

“Because of …” Hera’s voice trailed off, but he nodded.

“Yeah. I can still feel the residual … power in the air,” he murmured as he pushed his glareshades back into place after a woman bumped his shoulder without so much as a grumble in apology. It was the same sort of behavior he’d experienced since arriving. Anywhere else he would’ve written it off, but this was Jedha. The Holy City. “The fighting here on Jedha, coupled with the strength of the Temple of the Kyber and all the kyber mines … it’s not pleasant.”

And it really wasn’t. Kyber always sang a beautiful, harmonic song, and they still sang here, even now with all the stripping and mining. But they sang in dissonance now, something eerie and almost grating, radiating a sound only he could hear like faint but persistent background noise he couldn’t ignore. It left him feeling uneasy.

Hera hummed, and that single familiar sound pushed past the discomfort he felt. Since losing his sight, her voice was deeper, richer, more beautiful to his heightened senses. He wondered if she knew how much he looked forward to hearing her speak, even if it was just to yell at him on occasion?

He wondered if she knew how much it gave away?

“In that case, you’re right. We need to make an opening for Chopper so we can leave. The energies here shouldn’t bother you then,” Hera agreed. “It’ll take some time, though, to figure out the patrol patterns, but I think—”

“Wait.”

Hera stilled beside him as he abruptly stopped, his attention dominated. The Force had shifted radically and now writhed around him with potential. With warning. He knew the feel of it, like insects worming under his skin, and he focused his mind in the Force. Focused his senses as Hera moved closer, serious and waiting. Something was about to happen, that much he could tell, but what? What was it? Where was it coming from, and—

He sucked in a breath as alarm roared through him. “Get down!”

Kanan threw himself over Hera, wrapping his arms protectively around her as blaster bolts sailed through the air. Screams followed, and explosions rippled vibrations throughout stone buildings. Cracks in the structures sounded like cracking ice to his ears, and it was these hairline sounds which shot adrenaline through his body. He dragged Hera up in time to avoid massive chunks of falling wall that would’ve crushed them both if they’d been a second slower. The sound of something small and electronic smashed flitted past his senses, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

Chaos was everywhere. The air was choked with dust and smoke, and the Force swirled through it all like a miasma, lighting individuals up and marking them in his mind. Giving him the sense of where everyone was, showing him where deadly intentions were coming from. The most likely directions blaster fire would fly from.

It told him Hera was safe, but if they stayed where they were, she wouldn’t be for long.

“Come on,” she said, her voice a clear point in the madness. “This way!”

Hera now dragged him, and together they sprinted, hard and fast. In the Force she was unmistakable. Her determination, her bright passion and devotion and care were like a beacon, and although he could not physically see her anymore, he could never lose her. The harsh bite of the cold, sandy wind made his cheeks and ears burn as they ran, and in the Force he saw the two opposing groups — the Imperials and what must have been Saw’s people — engage each other. They were everywhere, and the malintent they meant for each other was spilling out to everyone else around them. This was no small battle. They’d walked into a bloody turf war.

And if they weren’t fast enough, they might not get out in time to survive.

“This way,” Hera said again, yanking him into what felt like a small trading district. He heard people crying and running, heard the sounds of doors slamming and windows shattering but in the Force he could sense the frenzied crowd also trying to escape toward the only safe direction across from them. It was like a wriggling mob of energy, so many people squeezing into one narrow passageway. A congested chokepoint.

Half the mob vanished in the Force after the devastation of a sudden blast, and the echo it made caused his stomach to roll. There had been people there in the Force, and then there _weren’t_. It had always been bad when he’d had his eyes, but now with his dependence on the Force for so much more, the loss of life was always a stronger experience than it had ever been.

The passage had partially shattered as the buildings around it collapsed, but people were climbing now, intent on getting to the other side of the rubble and further away, which seemed like a damn good idea to Kanan since there weren’t many options left. Around him others helped the less capable cross over as quickly as possible and with the fighting getting closer, Kanan did what he could to speed up the process.

Hera had climbed to the top of the rubble to help whoever needed help getting over. Kanan all but threw several crying children and an old woman at Hera who hurriedly guided them down to run away. This time she stretched her hand to him as other people climbed around her, shoving past now that the fighting had spilled into the road right behind them.

But as he reached to take her hand, another furious explosion jolted the ground.

The Force warned him an instant before the sound of more stone cracking and breaking from above filled the air. Alarmed he reacted, lifting his hands and gritting his teeth as he reached with the Force and shoved everyone who’d been on the rubble mound back and onto the safer side. People shrieked in surprise, but their cries were drowned out by the collision the stones above made with the mound, cutting off the passage entirely.

A stray blaster bolt forced him to duck, and he scrambled behind cover like everyone else who’d been unlucky enough to be caught on this side did as well. But his safety wasn’t very high on his list of priorities. Instead, he searched the Force until he found Hera’s Force signature on the other side. He knew there was no way he was getting over the rubble now, not unless he was willing to reveal his Force abilities more obviously. He almost did because this was _Jedha_. This was a warzone, and Hera—

An ill-placed grenade sent him scrambling again, causing his glareshades to fly off. Debris stung his exposed skin and forced him back into the here and now. This wasn’t the time, and although he wanted nothing more than to leap into the air, it wasn’t safe for either of them. They’d have to split up.

And he did not like it.

She must have found some hole in the rubble big enough to see through and read his face, despite the thick haze he could taste in the air, because Hera’s beautiful voice was sharp as she called him.

“Kanan!”

“Go! I’ll be fine!”

 Although he didn’t want to go, he turned, keeping low as he searched the Force for the right way out. Hera would be fine, he had to believe that. _He_ was the one he had to focus on now, and in a battle like this, it would be a close thing.

But the Force swelled around him, and unnerving as it was in this insanity, he trusted it. Waiting until the right moment, he threw himself forward and around a tight corner, running full-speed toward an opening created by the blasts with only the Force to trust and the sharpness of his senses in this black world. He’d either manage it or he wouldn’t.

And he would. He had to.

If only for Hera, and the tiny pin-prick of light glowing within her womb.

* * *

 

Baze shifted against the wall where he sat in a patch of dewy sunlight while Chirrut held his alms bowl to the crowd. He let his head slip back to stare at the sky. It was a rare day to see blue, but it was blue today. Not pale with dust like it usually was, but a gentle blue.

It had been a day with a sky as blue as this when the Empire had arrived and taken Jedha all those years ago.

Chirrut, of course, would choose to spend a blue-sky day preaching, though no one listened. Sometimes a kid would come by to ask a question, _maybe_ even out of some real curiosity, but it wouldn’t be long before a parent came by and scowled at the Guardian. Then they’d make cruel faces at Chirrut when they realized he was blind. That was when Baze drew a line and responded with a more frightening scowl than their own.

They usually never came back. Chirrut would always face over his shoulder at him with a small, disapproving frown.

It hadn’t happened for several days now, however, and Baze hadn’t been approached with the possibility of a job either — a growing problem ever since splitting from Gerrera. The lack of action, direction, and destruction of the Imperials still slowly killing his city was likely why Chirrut’s familiar words were grating his nerves more quickly than usual. There was only so much talk of the Force he could take in a day. Only so much he could put up with, even from Chirrut.

But with the blue sky above, he’d reached his limit, and if Chirrut didn’t stop soon, Baze would not keep the scathing words waiting in his mouth concerning his foolish brother’s faith at bay. Not today.

Why Chirrut continued to believe in the Force was a mystery to him. Baze had given it up long ago when the Force had done nothing to stop the Empire from taking Jedha. When the Force allowed such violence and cruelty. When it had allowed innocent families to be slaughtered, created orphaned children, and left wounds in others which would never heal.

“You’re agitated,” Chirrut said as he turned his face over his shoulder. Baze sat up out of the sun. Out of view of the blue sky.

“I’m hungry,” he grunted, controlling his simmering irritation. “You should save your breath and we should get something to eat.”

Chirrut eased himself up with his staff and tucked away the empty alms bowl. Baze did it far less elegantly, but then again he was a big man, and he wasn’t a Guardian anymore. Who cared about grace like Chirrut’s when what mattered these days was strength and how well you could aim?

As Baze studied the blind monk, he resisted the urge to sigh. Chirrut did. Chirrut clung to the teachings of the Guardians of the Whills resolutely and upheld the belief in old religions few cared about anymore. Old religions that were dangerous as they were useless, and likely to paint a target on his brother’s idiotic back.

Yet as dangerous as it was, Baze never left Chirrut. He watched out for him, protected Chirrut when he couldn’t protect himself. When the _Force_ wouldn’t. Sometimes he felt like an idiot himself for staying. But then his brother would grin and remind him of a time when things had been better on Jedha, and Baze would frown and remember why he didn’t leave.

Baze couldn’t leave Chirrut. Not after their shared past. Not after their shared pain. Not after they’d both lost so much and stood to one day lose what little they did have: each other. Their home.

“What do you want to have?” Chirrut asked.

“What’s around?”

Chirrut sniffed the air and smiled. Baze did the same and smelled nothing but the ripe scent of the desert city but knew from experience just whose secondary senses were the sharper. His brother pulled ahead, his staff tapping before him though it was largely for show. Chirrut may have been blind, but after seeing him in battle as many times as Baze had, when it came down to it, sometimes Baze wondered who had the sharper primary sense as well.

“I smell tea this way.”

Baze scowled.

“Tarine?”

“Tarine.”

Baze hated Tarine.

“Fine.”

“I believe there is also a noodle stall nearby as well,” Chirrut said over his shoulder. “With mousa worms.”

Baze grunted. The worms would at least overpower the Tarine. Hopefully.

“The laozot plum would also be ripe about this time of year.”

At this Baze glowered, his irritation rising again, and he knew Chirrut knew.

“No.”

Chirrut only smiled, and Baze’s glare morphed into a scowl.

“I don’t care how sure you are that the Force will protect you when you have stupid ideas like that, but I promise, you will be shot dead on the Temple steps. Even if _you_ wanted the laozot, you would never make it as far as the south courtyard.” As Baze said this, he noticed a squad of stormtroopers at the other end of the street, though they didn’t appear to do more than randomly search those nearby. Still, he kept an eye on them just in case and nudged Chirrut further to the side. “They’d take one look at you and shoot.”

“But that is why we wouldn’t go by the steps in the middle of the day,” Chirrut pointed out, ignoring the fact that — in this hypothetical situation — Chirrut would be alone on his fool’s errand, and instead planned with him along as well. “I’m surprised at you Baze Malbus. That’s not a good plan. Don’t worry, I’ll come up with it.”

“Your plan is sure to get us killed,” Baze countered.

“You’re the one who’s hungry.”

“I never said I wanted a laozot. I’ll starve for a while first.”

Chirrut grinned at him, slowing to allow Baze to walk beside him. “I remember when they were once your favorite fruit. You would wait all year for a taste of one.”

Baze groaned and Chirrut’s smile widened.

The ground abruptly trembled.

Everyone froze. Him, Chirrut, the little boy on the corner stealing from some foreign smuggler, all the locals. The explosion came again, only this time much closer, and as the residual vibrations rolled up his legs, the street burst with motion, everyone frantic to get away before what inevitably came next.

A third blast ripped the air, this time with blaster fire and now everyone was in a panic as a nearby building collapsed while both Gerrera’s partisans and the Imperials swarmed in around them.

Baze glowered at the blue sky above. Looked like lunch was a distant memory now.

“Great,” Baze growled as he readied his blaster and stepped away from the fleeing crowd. Chirrut moved to the side with him, a point of stillness in the riot which had swelled surrounded them. He was that old warrior now. Until the fighting was over, his brother’s smile wasn’t coming back.

Well, if there was any reason for him to get them out of the impromptu battlefield, he guessed that was a decent enough reason. And food. But first, they needed to get away from this. Baze latched onto Chirrut’s arm and started dragging him. “Come on. This isn’t our fight.”

“Not that way,” Chirrut told him quickly, and Baze’s stomach plummeted when Chirrut reflexively jerked back to avoid a bolt which would have hit his head if he hadn’t been so well trained. Cold sweat lined Baze’s back. It was just another example of good reflexes and training. Not the Force. To combat the sudden spike of fear, Baze got angry and hauled his brother behind cover in time to avoid more stray charges.

“Where then!” he demanded, ready to be away from this mess _now._ Chirrut pointed with his staff down a nearby alley.

“That way. Scrapper’s Lane. But we need to be fast. I can hear more reinforcements.”

“For who?”

“For both.”

“Great,” Baze grunted before gripping the heavy, reliable weight of his blaster. Just kriffing great.

* * *

 

Chirrut listened carefully to the chaos.

People were running for their lives, and quiet anger burned low in his stomach. Skirmishes between Saw’s partisans and the Empire sadly weren’t uncommon these days, but the battle this time was beyond violence. It bordered on savagery, and as always, no one was safe. Not the innocent. Not Saw’s men. Not the Empire. Not him and Baze. The blaster fire, though useful for triangulating and envisioning his environment, was dense. Between it, his heightened senses, and the echo-box on his waist, he knew the world around him well.

It wasn’t something he was pleased with. The opposite, in fact, and with his sharp ears and sensitive sense of touch he was aware of every limp body which collapsed to the ground, lifeless. He knew which were soldiers. He knew which were children.

The sound of Baze’s cannon as he provided cover fire helped Chirrut continue mapping the endlessly shifting world around him, and sure now, he leaped forward and dashed into the narrow alley. Baze’s familiar, heavy footsteps were loud behind him and echoed up the length of the alley walls. The alley opened into Scrapper’s Lane with all its hastily closed and abandoned stalls, and across from them he could hear others making for safety while the battle still lingered on the bare fringes.

“This way.”

Baze was still hot on Chirrut’s feet as they ran down the road. They weren’t the only ones with the same idea. Chirrut could hear the pound of feet of many others around them, sound waves crashing into him, filling him with sensory information his eyes could not divine themselves. He felt them through the ground as so many movements translated through the subsonic vibrations he felt in the earth, mixing with the tactile input of the echo-box.

It was only Baze’s blazingly tight grip on his arm which kept him from falling when an explosion shocked the world, shocked his senses, very close by. Screaming ahead of them heightened, but to his ears it was so much softer. Half as loud as it should have been. Half the people in the lane inexplicably silent and gone.

“Let’s go!” Baze barked, forcing him forward again, but once they were at the ruins of the only major exit from the lane, he pulled his arm from Baze’s grasp and began doing what he could to help others get over the small mountain of rubble before them.

“Chirrut!”

“Them first,” he told Baze, and Baze huffed before he climbed and began hauling people up and over. The battle was finally spilling into the lane behind them, and when he checked, he found there were only a few others left, and they were capable enough on their own. He reached for Baze’s hand.

Another explosion rocked the area, causing another collapse and his hold on Baze’s hand slipped as if his brother had been ripped away. He heard Baze’s voice call out, but Chirrut had other things to worry about.

He’d been knocked down, sprawled on his back, but he was on his feet fast, staff in hand. His arm swung out for Baze’s on reflex, but he found nothing but empty air. All around him blaster bolts and violence pressed in, loud and persistent, and he knew he wasn’t going to get to Baze. Not with the wall of rubble separating him from his brother and the firefight right at his back. Searching, he managed to find the one breathing pattern he could distinguish from all the others just beyond, and he crouched low as he called to Baze.

“Stay there! I’ll be fine!”

“Chirrut!”

Chirrut was already moving, sprinting, using his sharp senses to find the way out of the maelstrom and to safety. This wasn’t the first time he and Baze had been separated, and it wouldn’t be the last, but there was no denying that without Baze’s distinctive presence he wasn’t as comfortable.

“I am one with the Force,” he whispered as he moved. “The Force is with me.”

The world erupted to the side of him, sending small, rocky debris raining against his robes, but he didn’t stop even as the world sunk into pandemonium almost faster than he could determine. With his heart pounding he ran, instinct and a lifetime devoted to the Force that not even Baze’s cynicism had been able to infect caused something to stand out in his mind.

Chirrut took off after the rapid sound of footsteps in front of him speeding quickly away. There were so many other footsteps. Imperial footsteps. Civilian footsteps. The footsteps of women and children, nonhumans and human men. But out of all of them, _these_ footsteps rang out the loudest in his mind. The surest.

They were right.

Chirrut didn’t know who they belonged to, but he was sure whoever they were attached to would find the way. The Force was with him. He was one with the Force.

Chirrut followed the footsteps without fail as they lead him away from the fight and deeper into the city.

* * *

 

Hera stared into the writhing throng of people racing for safety now that they were on the safer side of the violence-made wall, and with dismay she realized she’d already lost him. Kanan was gone.

“Kanan!”

“Chirrut!”

The big man with wild hair and red armor next to her who’d also helped move people over the rubble was yelling as loudly as she was, and it was becoming a real shouting match between them. Unfortunately, the wall wasn’t going to last forever.

As a matter of fact, it wouldn’t last long at all. Through the smallest gap in the shattered stone, she could see an AT-ST taking aim. It was pointed right at them.

“Run,” she said, voice sharp as she shoved at the big guy, glaring up at him. “Run!”

They’d made it several steps before the world erupted with sound and light, throwing Hera into the man and his thick armor. She half expected to crash to the ground, her world a disoriented blur, but the big guy caught her and tugged her along, yanking them both into an alley where she could finally feel her feet, even if her hearing nodes still rang.

The first thing she did when he let go of her was reach for her blaster, charging it automatically as adrenaline laced her blood. The battle was following them. It seemed to be all around them.

“Do you know where to go?” she demanded, glancing over her shoulder as bolts dug into the buildings sheltering them for the brief moment. He sucked in a breath before jogging to the end of the alleyway to peer out into the street beyond. He jerked back a second later as a charge flashed past, and he raced back toward her. Hera frowned. Not that way, then.

She glanced around, searching for something, _anything_. Her companion appeared to come to the same conclusion she had.

The only way was up.

“Can you make it?” she asked, and she watched as the big guy holstered his blaster — no, she realized with jaw-dropping astonishment, his _repeater cannon_ — and began hoisting himself up onto a broken generator.

“Come on!” he said, his voice thick with a Jedhan accent. He offered a hand to help and boost her up onto the roof above. She took it without hesitation, vaulting up, only to twist around and offer a hand back to him. He took it and despite his bigger bulk made it up too.

It was marginally better up here, but not by much.

They both had to crouch to avoid the stray bolts flying past their heads, and they pressed tight against the wall of a makeshift shed. Hera was shifting toward the building next to them, intent on using it as the first stepping stone in a line across the rooftops toward somewhere safe when a heavy hand clamped on her shoulder, stopping her.

“No.”

She was about to demand why when the building she’d chosen abruptly collapsed. He tugged her a different way. “Buildings in the New City aren’t as stable,” he said. “We need something older. This way.”

All Hera could do was follow.

On both sides of them, Imperials and partisans raged, but they managed to move quickly from rooftop to rooftop, Hera taking the lead when she realized what she needed to look for.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before they’d run out of viable rooftop space for escape and needed to get back on the ground to get any further. A glance over the edge made her frown. Stormtroopers primarily. And she couldn’t take them all out on her own, not up here.

But then again, she wasn’t alone. And the big Jedhan had a _repeater cannon_.

“Big guy,” Hera said over her shoulder, loud enough to overcome the sound of the rampant firefight. “You know how to use that thing?”

His weathered face lit up as if she’d just told him the one thing he’d most wanted to hear in his life.

“Oh, I know how to use it.”

“Then when we get down there, spray left.”

The big guy didn’t question her as he glanced over, much to her relief, and instead simply reacted in a way which told her that, for one, he _did_ know how to use it, and two, he was trained. Once they were on the ground, his volley of charges were swift, controlled, and steady, clearing the way for her so she could provide cover fire for him. Stormtroopers fell around them, and with the path cleared, they hurried away.

Everything was getting quieter. The sound of the battle still followed them, but for the most part, it was growing distant as they rushed toward safety.

Only to round a corner where a contingency of stormtroopers were waiting with blasters raised.

Hera immediately backpedaled, the big guy doing the same, but the clicks of more blasters behind them were evidence enough that they’d been cornered. Behind the stormtroopers were three others in binders, kneeling on the ground.

“Halt! You’re under arrest!” the stormtrooper shouted, and two squads’ worth of blasters were pointed unwaveringly at the both of them. “Drop your weapons. If you so much as twitch a finger past that, we will open fire.”

Hera swallowed, eyeing the threats around them before casting a glance up at her impromptu partner. Dark eyes met hers and a hard frown lined his face, but there was an unspoken agreement. An acknowledgment there.

Slowly they lowered their weapons to the ground, moving in tandem, and as they did, she hoped at least that Kanan had made it away safely.

Because if things didn’t improve, she was going to need him. And soon.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! There's a lot set up here and I hope you're excited about where the story will go next. I'd love to hear what you thought :]
> 
> Anyway, as promised, the timeline.
> 
> To be as canon-compliant as possible, I've crammed this story in the unknown time gap between Rebels episodes 4.04 (In the Name of the Rebellion Part 2) and 4.05 (The Occupation). So this would/could be at the bare fringes of when both Kanan and Hera began to suspect the pregnancy before they head off to Lothal, while also giving Saw time to establish himself on Jedha.
> 
> That being said, it's also taking place sometime after the Guardians of the Whills book, which also has a fairly fuzzy timeline too. It's the microscopic possibility that this story could have feasibly happened at the intersection of these two points that I'm attempting to take advantage of. But in the event I've gotten my timelines wrong, let's all agree to look the other way as I wave my writer's hands and pretend it is all so anyway.


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